The Riddle House
by Cocacoriola
Summary: Tom Riddle, sixteen, had decided to get revenge on the man that abandoned his mother so many years ago.


**A/N: I have been reading Half-Blood Prince yet again, and I decided it would be interesting to write a one-shot about what happened when Tom/Voldemort went to kill his father and grandparents. So that's what I'm writing. **

**The Riddle House**

"_Stupefy!_" Tom said quietly, pointing his wand at his uncle. Morfin toppled to the ground, dropping his wand and knife. Tom looked at the filthy old man for a moment, then stepped forward. He bent down and picked up Morfin's wand, examining it in the little light the flickering candles gave off. He then slipped the wand into his pocket and bent down once more, sliding the large, gold-and-black ring off of Morfin's finger. He pocketed this as well.

He had already planned what he would do next. Tom left his uncle stunned on the floor and left the tiny grub of a house, making his way up the road slowly. He know knew where the good-for-nothing muggle man who had fathered him and then abandoned him and his mother lived. Tom tightened his grip on his own wand, trying to decide the best revenge. Should he just kill his father and get it over with? Or he could cause the traitorous old man a great deal of pain.

Tom had plenty of time to think this over on the walk to Little Hangleton. He now knew that his mother was called Merope and that she'd been the magic side of his parentage. Tom shook with anger when he realized that his witch mother had died, unable to take care of him. Fueled by this anger, he began to walk quicker, wanting revenge on the man that had made his life so miserable. It was Tom Riddle Senior's fault that Tom had been brought up in an orphanage, with no parents, no friends, no love. The orphanage owner could care less about the children constantly being dropped on her doorstep.

Tom had had numerous interviews with interested parents, but he scared them all off. His serious demeanor and quiet personality was not all that warded them off. It was the strong force he emanated and the brooding look that came over his face quite often, when he planning revenge on those children who had teased him or done something to anger him.

The sight of Little Hangleton forced Tom to shake those thoughts away. He stood on the edge of the town, searching for the house of his father. Morfin had told him about it. And there it was, his eyes snapping towards the large manor on the hill that undoubtedly belonged to the Riddles. _Tom Riddle,_ he thought with disgust. _What a common, muggle name. Before long I won't be known as Tom ever again. Before long, I will be the greatest, most feared wizard of all time. No one will be able to keep me from doing what I want then._

Tom began to walk again, ignoring the curious looks he got the entire way through the village. However, the looks didn't follow him out of the village again and up the hill to the Riddles' house. The tall, wrought iron gates that connected to the fence surrounding the length of the house were locked. Tom pulled Morfin's wand out of his pocket and murmured, "Alohomora." There was a faint click, and Tom was able to push the gate open.

There was no one out in the yard as Tom climbed the hill to the front door. It was evening, no doubt all the servants would be inside, preparing for dinner. It shouldn't be hard to find his father. After all, Morfin had thought him to be Tom Riddle Senior for the first few moments he'd entered the Gaunt house. That must mean he would look exactly like Tom, but older.

The front door was unlocked, and Tom stood in the doorway, finalizing his plan. Then he stepped inside and closed the door behind him.

Tom Riddle Senior and his parents were in the dining room, awaiting their evening supper that they would never get to eat. Tom didn't see many servants on his way to the dining room, and he wasn't stopped. The servants seemed to steer clear of their masters, and none got close enough to realize that this wasn't the Tom Riddle living in the house, but his son.

The three Riddles didn't notice the new arrival at first. He stood in the doorway to the dining room for some time before his grandmother sensed his presence. She gave a shriek, at which Tom Senior and his father turned to look. Tom stepped forward, so that the light fell on him. He stared at his father, and it was almost like looking in a mirror. The only differences were that his black hair was streaked with grey, and his skin was tanned, rather than pale, as Tom's were. Tom Senior's eyes were the same, dark brown, almost black as his son's. After seeing his father, Tom knew that there was no trace of Merope in him at all, except for her blood.

"Good evening," Tom said quietly.

"Who are you?" his grandmother asked in a shaky whisper. "What do you want?"

"My name is Tom Riddle," he said. "Junior," he added, a grimace crossing his face.

Tom Senior looked baffled and frightened at the same time. "I don't have a son."

"Would I be here if you didn't?" Tom asked.

"Who is your mother?" demanded his grandfather.

"Her name is Merope Gaunt." There was an exchange of disgusted looks between the three older Riddles. Tom felt a rush of anger. "She's dead now. Because you," he said, staring at Tom Senior with cold eyes, "abandoned her while she was pregnant with me. She had no help. I grew up in an orphanage, and shared you're filthy muggle name for the past sixteen years of my life. But for no longer. Soon, I will be known by another name. I will be called Lord Voldemort, the most feared wizard of our time."

"Wizard?" Tom Senior scoffed. "You're babbling, child."

"You are a fool," Tom murmured angrily. "If you think I'm going to let you sit there and live, after what you did to my mother, you must be one of the stupidest muggles there is." Tom lifted Morfin's wand and pointed it at his father. "I hope you've enjoyed your life. Because this is the end of it. _Avada kedavra!_"

There was a flash of green light, and Tom Senior fell limp in his seat, his eyes blank. Tom's grandparents looked absolutely terrified. Tom turned Morfin's wand on them. "I suppose I will have to do away with you as well. I can't have witnesses."

"Please," his grandmother begged. "We won't tell anyone. Just leave us be."

"I'm afraid that won't be possible," he said. With another flick of his wand, his grandparents, the last of the Riddles, were also dead. "And now," he murmured to himself, stowing Morfin's wand away, "Now it is time to begin the rise of Lord Voldemort."

**A/N: So let me know what you think. I actually kind of had fun writing this. I've never really done anything other than James and Lily, so I enjoyed it.**

**Love,**

**This Author Person-Face**


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